Whenever the strongest on the continent were discussed, three names always came up.
The guardian of ancient wisdom, State Preceptor of the Southern Allied Kingdoms, and master of myriad stars—the ‘Archwitch.’
The ‘Saint,’ known as the Gatekeeper of Heaven, the Arbiter of Life and Death, and the Master of All Martial Artists.
And the last was none other than the ‘Sword Duke.’
The reason the ‘Sword Duke’ alone lacked some dazzling string of epithets was simple.
Ever since his youth, he had wandered across the entire continent and created countless stories, accumulating so many aliases that it was difficult to select only a few.
There was, however, one.
There was one title that no connoisseur would hesitate to say belonged to the ‘Sword Duke.’
It was an honorable name that, since time immemorial, only a single swordsman could possess.
‘The Continent’s Number One Sword.’
It was a title commonly interpreted as ‘the greatest swordsman on the continent.’
At the same time, it was indisputable proof that he stood above the countless swordsmen (劍手) scattered like grains of sand.
The man had never once done anything that brought shame to that title.
Today was no exception.
Just look at the devastation laid out before me.
After hearing the drums announcing an enemy incursion, I had rushed over, only to find the mountain gate (山門) covered with fallen…